


Five Times Mako Punished Bolin and One Time He Reward Him Instead

by aTaCo9



Series: Mako & Bolin Growing Up [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Belts, Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Childhood, Comfort/Angst, Corporal Punishment, Denial, Discipline, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face Slapping, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Protection, Punishment, Slapping, Spanking, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aTaCo9/pseuds/aTaCo9
Summary: Based on a Ficbending prompt: "The image of Mako tossing a crying, kicking Bolin over his shoulders definitely made me wonder how many times he had to do that in the past as Bolin's protector/father figure. So! Who would like to try their hand at five times Mako punished Bolin and one time he rewarded him instead?"This is a moderately dark/twisted fic with LOTS of underage (ages 6–14) spanking that could be read with sexual undertones. These stories are the literal definition of Hurt/Comfort (with a healthy dose of angst thrown in for good measure). These stories are meant to be part of the Headcanon universe.





	1. Spanking

(Mako is 8 and Bolin is 6) 

Their parents had been dead for three weeks when Mako first spanked Bolin. The brothers had gone out together to get groceries; Mako thought about leaving Bolin home, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. _What if he turned on the stove, or played with the knives, or decided to take a bath and ended up drowning?_ It was much easier to just bring him along and keep an eye on him. 

Mako had been grocery shopping with his parents many times but had only gone alone with Bolin a few. He was using the money that had been in his and Bolin’s piggy banks, and it was dwindling fast. He tried to make sensible purchases—things like noodles that were cheap and easy to cook. But it was difficult to bring Bolin along; he loved sweets and expensive prepared items and didn’t seem to understand their perilous financial situation. 

“Mako, I want dumplings!” Bolin whined as they passed by the dumpling vendor in the outdoor market, tugging on Mako’s arm. 

Mako sighed. “I’m sorry, Bo, but they’re too expensive. We still need to get fruit, vegetables, and bread—stuff that we can eat for the whole week, not just tonight.”

Bolin stopped dead in the middle of the walkway. “I don’t _want_ vegetables. You always get those icky green things and the nasty red bulbs. I want DUMPLINGS.” 

Bolin had raised his voice and a few people nearby had turned their heads to look. Mako tried to push him along, feeling an all-out Bolin meltdown coming on. Bolin, however, had other ideas. He stopped dead center in the middle of the walkway and rooted his feet to the ground, bursting into loud tears in the process. 

_Uh oh_ , thought Mako. He could feel the ground beneath his feet trembling and buckling as Bolin’s sobs intensified. Suddenly, the loose dirt and pebbles in the immediate vicinity were swirling in the air, and were hurtling straight towards Mako’s chest. He barely had time to cover his head and turn away before they pelted down upon him, hard. 

Everyone within a ten-foot radius had stopped now and was starting at the two of them. Blushing furiously, Mako grabbed his brother’s upper arm. He let his hand warm up, not enough to burn but enough to let Bolin know that he meant business. 

“Sorry….sorry…” he muttered, pulling a crying Bolin behind him and pushing his way through the crowd.

Eventually they crossed the market and travelled the few blocks to their late parent’s apartment. Mako pushed Bolin, who by now had started to scream and cry in earnest, inside roughly. Ignoring him, Mako put their meager purchases away inside the cupboards and tiny icebox. 

Eventually Bolin cried himself out. Tucking his legs underneath himself and popping his thumb in his mouth, he leaned against a leg of the kitchen table sleepily.

Mako thought furiously: _what would dad do if he were here?_ If it had been him having the tantrum, he knew that he would have gotten the belt, but he didn’t think that Bolin had ever been subjected to that particular punishment. When Bolin was in trouble he typically got a hand spanking. But could Mako do that? Eyes closed and silent, Bolin was much more endearing now that his tantrum had passed. 

Thinking about the possible consequences of future tantrums helped Mako to decide that yes, he could. _What if a police officer had seen them and started asking questions?_ The last thing they needed was to have to escape from one of the city’s seedy orphanages. 

Mako sat himself in the kitchen chair at the head of the table, positioned just like his dad had been when one of them was in trouble. “Bolin, come here,” he said sternly. 

Bolin looked up at him, thumb still in his mouth. Apparently deciding to obey for once, he picked himself off of the ground and walked up to Mako’s side. 

“Bolin, how you acted today was unacceptable. We don’t have enough money to buy all of things we want anymore. Remember? Mom and dad aren’t here and we’re in charge of taking care of ourselves now. We can’t attract attention when we go out like you did today. If people start asking questions they might take us both away…or even separate us.” 

Bolin looked at Mako, tears welling up in his emerald eyes. “Sorry, Mako,” he said, removing his thumb from his mouth at last.

“I know you are. But I’m going to have to spank you so that you don’t forget in the future.”

Bolin’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Mako patted his lap and held out his arms, motioning for him to come closer. 

Bolin, apparently too shocked to reconsider, shuffled over to his older brother and bent himself onto Mako’s lap, his head facing the firebender’s left side. Mako took a deep breath and steeled himself. 

_SMACK._ Wincing internally at the pain in his hand—had his father really done this on top of Bolin’s clothing?—Mako paused before bringing it down again.

_SMACK. SMACK. SMACK._ Bolin, already primed for crying from his earlier tantrum, burst into tears at the seventh spank. Mako felt terrible, but he knew with certainty that his father wouldn’t have stopped so soon.

_SMACK. SMACK. SMACK._ Mako paused and concentrated on cooling the temperature in his hand as his mother had taught him to do before she died. Bolin was still loudly bawling but had not moved from the position he had been ordered into. 

_SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Surely twenty is enough,_ thought Mako, wincing at the soreness in his palm. He helped to stand up Bolin, who had tears streaming down his face and was now hiccupping. Mako pulled his younger brother into a hug and pressed a kiss to the side of his cheek, tasting his salty tears in the process. 

“…hck…I’m…I’m sorry, Mako…hck…” said Bolin in between sobs and hiccups. 

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay Bo,” replied Mako, hugging him close. “You’re forgiven. You just have to be more careful, okay? It’s like mom always said: you can’t let your temper get away from you.”

Bolin nodded and leaned his head onto his older brother’s shoulder. Mako sighed and fervently hoped that this whole taking-care-of-Bolin thing was going to get easier soon.


	2. Belt

(Mako is 10 and Bolin is 8)

Bolin was eight when Mako first used a belt on him. It happened after a particularly bad fight between the two of them, which occurred within the confines of an old building. The brothers were currently residing there on the ground floor.

In his anger Bolin had really done a job on the place. He had torn large slabs of stone from beneath the floor, which was now torn up and cracked. Their fire had been thrown against one of the wooden walls, and only some quick bending on Mako’s part had stopped the flames from spreading. Their possessions were tossed haphazardly across the room, and what used to be a stash of food had been spread out over the floor.

Mako knew that if he stayed he wouldn’t be able to control his temper and he would end up doing or saying something that he regretted. Turning quickly he stalked away, exiting into the crisp fall air. 

Mako walked around the somewhat seedy neighborhood he and Bolin were staying in. Wandering aimlessly, he meandered up and down dead-end alleys and circled abandoned buildings, his and Bolin’s fight playing over and over in his mind. Eventually he got tired and sat down to rest, leaning against the side of a brick building for support. 

Letting his eyes wander to a nearby trash pile, Mako scanned it absentmindedly out of habit for any item that might be useful. Something long and brown stuck out of the side of the pile and Mako leaned over to pull it free. It was a men’s leather belt, thick and worn, the clasp of which had apparently separated from the strap. 

Mako picked it up fully, examining it closer. Years ago, before his parents had died, his father had used a similar implement to punish him on several different occasions. Curious now, Mako wrapped one end of the belt around his right hand and pushed up the sleeve on his left arm. Taking a deep breath, he brought the belt down hard onto the outside of his wrist. 

_SLAP._ A red mark instantly bloomed and Mako drew in a sharp breath at the stinging sensation. Mako thought quickly. Clearly Bolin needed to be punished for his latest loss of temper; it was also equally clear that Mako’s current means of discipline simply weren’t effective anymore. _Perhaps this is what was needed to get Bolin to finally obey?_

Deciding quickly, Mako carried the belt back to where he and Bolin were staying. Bolin was sitting where Mako had left him, next to the extinguished fire. He had returned the mounds of earth to their place beneath the floor, but the patching was rough and cracked. 

Bolin’s eyes moved to Mako’s right hand, which was gripping the thick leather strap. 

“What’s that for?” He asked sassily, looking up into his brother’s face.

“It’s for your punishment.” An expression of disbelief crossed Bolin’s features. “Bolin, spanking doesn’t seem to be getting through to you anymore and I think you’re old enough now for a more mature form of discipline. I got the belt a whole bunch of times from dad and I think it’s time that you got it too. The spirits know you deserve it.” 

“Are you…serious?” Bolin asked incredulously, eyeing the thick leather strap with trepidation. 

“Yes.” Mako’s tone was stern. “Also, you’re going to strip down to your underthings first.”

Bolin’s mouth fell open and he gaped at his older brother, wide-eyed and unbelieving. Mako steeled his expression into an uncompromising look of indifference and stared back at him. 

After a few moments Bolin finally accepted defeat. Turning away from his brother, Bolin started to undo the sash of his outer shirt. Removing the garment from himself completely, he undid his pants and stepped out of them. Now clad only in a tank top and undershorts, goosebumps appeared on Bolin’s arms and he shivered. 

“Lean against the wall.” Mako ordered. Bolin shot him a glare but did as he was told, crossing the short distance to the nearest one. Putting his arms out in front of him he rested his weight against them, assuming the demanded position. 

Mako brought the belt back and swung it forward onto Bolin’s back, putting some—but not all—of his weight behind the blow. _SLAP._ Bolin gasped and took a step forward, but returned to his original position after a few seconds. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ Mako hit his brother’s back and butt, carefully keeping up the force of the blows but conscientiously not hitting Bolin any harder than when he began. Bolin’s upper lip had started trembling and tears were already welling up in his emerald eyes. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ By the twelfth blow Bolin’s tears had started to fall. He leaned closer into the wall, supporting his weight by spreading his legs into what Mako recognized as an earthbending form. Bolin’s sobs echoed off the walls and ceiling, sharply cutting through the otherwise silent building. 

_SLAP. SLAP._ Mako aimed lower and accidently smacked against the soft fleshy part of his brother’s legs, right where his thighs met his butt. A hitching sob burst from Bolin’s throat and Mako felt a slight tremble from the ground below; the earthbender leaned forward so that his head was pressed against the wall in front of him. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ By the thirtieth stroke, Mako could no longer stomach the punishment. He let go of the belt and it fell to the floor with a residual slapping sound. Bolin winced at the noise and Mako bit his lip in empathy as he crossed the room to his little brother. 

Crying hard, Bolin turned to face the firebender. “Bo…” Mako began, but Bolin cut him off. 

“…I…I’m sorry Mako… _sob,_ …You’re right…I’ve been… _sob_ …so bad…” he got out in between his sobs. 

Feeling immensely guilty, Mako pulled in his little brother, holding him around the neck in a tight embrace. Mako kissed the top of his head and started to rub his fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him. Mako held Bolin until he was cried out, then handed him his clothes. He restarted the fire and pulled Bolin in closer, warming his little brother with his body heat.


	3. Denial

(Mako is 11 and Bolin is 9) 

There was a period of time when he was nine during which Bolin would talk back to Mako. Bolin had recently become fast friends with a grubby little street urchin who had been on his own since he was a small child, and had the mouth to show for it. Even as a kid the earthbender had excellent people skills, and was adept at mimicking the boy’s language and gestures. Consequently, he had picked up his friend’s smart mouth and brash retorts, much to Mako’s displeasure. 

It was an early winter that year, prompting Mako to seek out a shelter in mid-October for him and his brother. He found an old, condemned warehouse that happened to be situated outside of any claimed gang territory, and one crisp afternoon Mako and Bolin moved their meager possessions—which largely consisted of a small cot, a few broken toys, and their father’s red scarf—to a quiet corner of the building. 

November and December of that year were brutally cold. Mako had to steal twice the amount of money in the winter in order for the brothers to survive, since they needed to purchase firewood in addition to food. Although he had excellent endurance for a child his age, Mako couldn’t bend indefinitely—they needed something that would burn in order to keep warm, in addition to any ratty textiles that they could scavenge. 

Mako was constantly on edge that winter. He didn’t sleep well, plagued by nightmares about horrible things happening to Bolin, and his thievery suffered as a result. There were fewer opportunities to steal wallets in the winter; less events happening, scanty crowds, and thicker outerwear to have to circumvent. More than one night his little brother and himself went to bed hungry, Bolin pressed tightly against his side while he tended a small flame. 

One evening Mako and Bolin were splitting a half loaf of bread stolen earlier that day. Bolin was scarfing down the meal as fast as possible, and Mako honestly thought that he was going to make himself sick.

“Bo, slow down. You don’t want to choke,” he said, carefully breaking his share into smaller pieces.

Bolin stuck his tongue out at him. “I’ll eat how I want, Mako. You’re not the boss of me.”

Mako couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Were all kids like this or was he just lucky? “Okay, fine—whatever. If you die it’ll be your own fault.” 

Bolin spoke with his mouth open, littering crumbs onto the floor of the building. “Geez Mako, lighten up. You’re such a pissy tight-ass sometimes. I’m eating, not going to the tossing opera.”

Mako stopped eating and frowned at him. The street slang sounded out of character—indecent even—coming from the voice of his little brother. 

“Don’t talk like that.” Mako spoke louder and sharper than he had meant to. 

Bolin noticed his tone, stopped chewing, and looked up. A look of contriteness crossed the young earthbender’s features. “Sorry, Mako,” he said, quietly. 

That night Mako refused to sleep next to the earthbender as a form of minor punishment. He insisted that Bolin rest on their small cot and instead of joining him leaned against a nearby wall, tending their flame well into the night. Bolin’s cot was right next to their source of heat, and Mako sometimes worried that it could catch if he didn’t constantly watch the flames, bending them away when they got too close. Despite this, Bolin—used to keeping warm from a combination of both the flames and his brother’s body heat—shivered throughout most of the evening. 

The next day the two brothers went out like usual, foraging, stealing, and (in the case of Mako) picking pockets. During midday Bolin started clearing his throat more often than usual, and by the mid-afternoon what was a minor irritancy had developed into a full-blown cough. 

Mako put him to bed in their cot and used a portion of their firewood to feed a large flame, trying to quell Bolin’s trembling form. He took some of the money he had stolen that day to purchase soup and fresh, clean water and managed to pilfer a bottle of cold medicine from a local apothecary before it closed. 

The next two days were awful. Bolin ran a high fever and shivered constantly, despite an impressive fire and Mako’s near-constant embrace. He barely ate anything and Mako had to force-feed him soup, water, and medicine regularly.

Mako was stricken by horrible guilt. He felt as though Bolin’s sickness was completely his fault for making him to sleep alone a few nights prior. His feelings alternated between extreme self-loathing and terror, and as he held Bolin’s small and trembling form he prayed to the spirits that he would recover with all his might.

On the third day Bolin’s fever finally broke. Turning onto his back he smiled up at Mako. “I’m hungry,” he said.

Letting out a choking sound, Mako grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. Bolin didn’t protest, but instead wrapped his arms around his brother. Mako was so happy that a tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, though he brushed it away quickly. 

Mako pulled back, smiling. “How about dumplings for lunch?” Bolin’s grin could have lit up the entire city.


	4. Empathy

(Mako is 14 and Bolin is 12)

Mako and Bolin were in trouble. They had been out collecting winnings from the latest rigged bet for the Triple Threats when a posse of rival gang members had spotted them. The brothers had tried their best to first run and later fight, but eventually they were cornered. They had not been seriously injured in the fray—they were mostly just scraped and bruised—but the gang members had taken all of the winnings that they had collected. 

The Triple Threats were not going to be happy. 

Mako had quickly decided the best course of action was honesty. Bolin in tow, he immediately hastened to the Triple Threats headquarters and explained the situation. Zolt’s frown grew deeper and deeper as Mako continued. 

“So what you’re telling me is that all of the money is gone?” Zolt asked.

Mako hesitated. “…Yes,” he finally said. 

Zolt brought his hands together in front of his face and peered at the brothers over his fingers. A long pause ensued. 

Finally, Zolt spoke. “Well, you knew the risks when you signed on for this gig. Since the little one is new at this we will let you off easy.” Zolt’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Boys, you know what to do.”

A group of Zolt’s henchmen, looking very tall and very, very strong, approached the two young brothers. Surveying the scene quickly, Mako realized that he and Bolin were gravely outnumbered. A pit of dread formed in his stomach. He knew that he would soon be immobilized and the mobsters would have access to his little brother. It was clear that they would both be beaten badly and that, eventually, there would be nothing he could do about this. 

However, first he would try his hardest to protect Bolin and to draw the brunt of the attack onto himself. 

Almost immediately Mako pushed Bolin behind him and bent a large ball of flames with his right hand. He widened his stance, gripping the floor firmly, and made a fist with his left hand, ready to fight.

“Wait.” Zolt said, surveying the situation in front of him. The gang members instantly froze, and Zolt looked the brothers up and down. He quickly seemed to decide something.

“I have a better idea for making these two pay. Bring me the strap. One of them will take a beating and the other one will give it. They will be the ones to decide who administers and who receives.” Zolt smiled cruelly and a few of the gang members snickered. “Let’s see which one of them is most willing to take a hundred lashes for the other.”

It took Mako all of two seconds to decide that this course of action was a much better offer and he extinguished his fireball with a pop. He also immediately decided that he would be the one taking the beating. 

“Fine.” Mako directed his speech at Zolt. “I’ll take it, Bolin will give it.” 

“Mako…” Bolin looked at his brother and bit his lip. “I…I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t know…if…I can do that to you. Why don’t I take it instead?” Zolt’s grin widened at Bolin’s pushback.

Mako turned his head and gave Bolin his best _do-as-I-say_ glare. “Absolutely not. I’m not arguing with you, Bolin. It’s not up for discussion.” He turned back to Zolt. “I’m taking it.”

“Excellent,” Zolt sounded positively gleeful. One of the henchmen had returned with a large leather strap, one end of which looked scraped and supple as if it were frequently used for nefarious purposes. “Take off everything but your undershorts and prepare yourself.” 

Mako hesitated for only a second. The firebender undid his sash and outer shirt before pulling his undershirt off over his head. He walked to the nearest wall as he undid his pants. Pushing them to his ankles, he left his undershorts on as instructed. He put his arms up above his head and leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall with his hands, feeling a wave of relief when no one objected to this position. He had a feeling he would need the wall’s support to endure the beating. 

Meanwhile, a henchman brought the thick belt over to Bolin who accepted it with a shaking hand. Bolin was paler than usual and was trembling slightly. His expression seemed to combine a mixture of panic and nausea. 

“Mako, get ready. You will count each stroke as it is given. Earthbender—start.” Zolt commanded. 

Mako’s muscles tensed as he steeled himself. A hundred lashes wasn’t a laughing matter, especially on top of the bruises he had received earlier fighting off the gang members. He suppressed a wince when he heard a whooshing sound, but there was something wrong—it was too quiet. When the strap made contact with his shoulders, he barely even felt the slight sting. 

“One. Harder, Bolin.” Mako said through gritted teeth. 

The belt swung once more but again just barely grazed him. “Two.” Mako said in a flat voice.

“Earthbender! Put some muscle behind it. Let’s add ten more lashes to the count. We’ll increase it another ten each time you dole out one of these pansy strokes.” Zolt called, his grin widening further. 

Mako resisted the urge to slap his hand over his face. Instead he took a deep breath and looked behind his shoulder, making eye contact with his younger brother. “Bolin, listen to me. You can do this. It can get much, much worse for both of us. You HAVE to hit me—hard! Don’t hold back! I can take it, bro, trust me.” 

Bolin bit his lower lip and nodded. Mako faced frontwards and once more braced himself against the wall.

 _SLAP._ Mako suppressed a gasp at the force of the blow in comparison to the previous two. “Three,” he managed, doing his best to keep his voice steady. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ The strokes began coming faster and Mako tried his best to show no acknowledgement. He doubted that Bolin would be able to continue if he reacted, and he needed his brother to finish this. 

_SLAP._ “…Fifteen…” _SLAP._ “…Sssixteen…” _SLAP._ “Sss..sseventeen…” Mako was biting his lip to keep from gasping or crying out and his voice was beginning to shake. _Keep it together,_ became the mantra that Mako thought over and over to himself. 

Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty strokes passed. Somewhere in the mid-fifties Bolin accidently swiped wide and caught Mako square on the side of his ribs, hard. Unprepared, Mako let loose a cry and winced sharply before tightly clamping his lips together and steading himself. He waved off Bolin’s desperate sounding apology and motioned for him to continue. 

Bolin was spacing out the strokes, making slow lines down Mako’s back—shoulders, ribs, lower back, butt, thighs—before repeating. Mako appreciated the gesture, but by the sixtieth stroke it didn’t seem to matter where Bolin aimed: he was sore everywhere and each new stroke caused a fresh burning sensation on his already tender skin.

 _SLAP._ “Ss..sseventy…” Mako ground out, immediately biting his lip again. _SLAP._ “Ss…sss..seventy one…” He couldn’t stop the waiver in his voice anymore. He concentrated on quashing the urge to cry as the lashes continued to rain down. 

By the eightieth stroke Mako had turned his head and bit into the soft underside of his right arm. The sharp pain provided a welcome distraction from the belt’s whistle and the burning sensation on his backside. With each passing stroke he continued to cry out the count, trying not to muffle his words against his arm. 

_SLAP._ “…mmng…Nnnn.nn.ninety -four…. “ _SLAP._ “…ahhh…nnn…ninety-ff-five…”

By the hundredth stroke Mako tasted blood and quickly pulled his mouth off of his arm. His body was shaking now, and it felt like the pressure of the wall against his hands was the only thing keeping him upright. Though he had valiantly subdued his tears, a few leaked out as the strokes finally finished. 

_SLAP._ “Fckkk…on..one hundred and nine…” _SLAP._ “Nnng…one hun…hundred and ten.” _Finally._

Quivering with the effort of suppression and still leaning forward against the wall, Mako quickly swiped across his eyes with his right hand, brushing away his tears. He turned his head to look at Zolt, awaiting his final instructions.

Zolt looked mildly impressed. “You’ve conducted yourself well today, Mako. I’ll consider your debt forgiven. You and your brother are welcome back here next week for collections, if you still want in. You can get dressed and go.”

Relief washed through Mako, but outwardly he just nodded. They really needed the money from the Triple Threats—he didn’t know how they’d survive without it. Trying not to wince, Mako pulled up his pants and fastened them. 

Bolin, an expression of anguish playing across his features, had picked up the rest of his brother’s clothing and was holding open his outer shirt. Mako couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of pain as the rough fabric scraped along his tender back, but managed to suppress a shudder. He gingerly fastened his sash, tying it looser than normal, and took his undershirt from Bolin’s hands.

Mako inhaled a few steadying breaths, immensely grateful for all of the breathing exercises that he frequently practiced as a firebender. “Thank you, Zolt. We will see you next week. Sorry again.” He turned and led Bolin out. 

The brothers exited the building at a slower pace than usual as Mako tried to suppress his winces. Each step caused a jolt of pain as his sore muscles shifted and the fabric of his shirt brushed against his injuries. 

A few feet outside of the headquarters, Mako made the mistake of looking at Bolin. His lower lip was trembling and there were tears welling up in his eyes. Mako sighed.

“Bo, you did really, really well.” Mako said in a gentle voice. “I know that was hard for you, but it could have been so much worse. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

The tears in Bolin’s eyes spilled over and a hitching sob escaped his throat. He turned suddenly and threw himself at his brother’s chest, carefully wrapping him into a hug while avoiding his back and shoulders. It hurt anyways—the firebender was sore all over—but Mako allowed it, realizing how upset the green-eyed earthbender was. 

“I’m ss..so sorry, Mako!” Bolin apologized over and over while crying into his shirt. Mako wrapped his arms around his younger brother and hushed him, rubbing small circles onto his back and repeating _it’s okay, it’s okay._ Finally Bolin quieted enough to walk away. 

As they walked back to the abandoned warehouse they were currently calling home, Mako couldn’t help but admire Zolt’s evil genius. Even though he had been the one injured, the experience had been equally horrible for both him and Bolin. As he thought about it more he came to realize that hurting him was probably a far worse punishment for his younger brother than any physical pain would have been.

 _Brilliant,_ Mako thought as the brothers arrived at their makeshift home.


	5. Request

(Mako is 16, Bolin is 14)

Mako and Bolin had not been getting on well lately. Mako was broody and often cranky, constantly exhausted from long days at the power plant in combination with his gym chores and firebending lessons. Bolin had lately gotten into the habit of talking back to Mako sassily; it seemed he always had a cheeky retort at the ready whenever he interacted with his older brother. 

Mako finally snapped one evening, backhanding Bolin across the face after he made some smart-alecky comment, hard, in anger. Bolin looked at him, open mouthed, wide eyed, and clutching his cheek with his right hand, before turning and bolting out of their front door. 

Mako signed and brought his hands up, covering his face. This was just one more recent addition to the _List of Things To Feel Guilty About._ Mako was older than Bolin and was charged with taking care of and protecting his little brother. He should be wiser, better able to direct the conversation, and he most definitely shouldn’t lose his temper so easily. 

It was after dark before Bolin returned. Mako had gone out and bought some of his favorite dumplings as a peace offering, and they were waiting on the kitchen table. Mako was on the couch studying some firebending forms when Bolin entered the apartment. 

Bolin shut the door and turned to face his brother, looking as if he were about to speak. He glanced at the dumplings and a strange expression crossed his face. _Sadness? Guilt?_ He had always worn his emotions plainly in his features, but Mako wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking this time. 

Mako spoke first. “Bo, I’m sorry I lost my temper and I promise I’ll work on keeping it in check. Also…I’m sorry for slapping you; you didn’t deserve that. I was in the wrong.”

Bolin looked at him, the guilty expression now more defined. He chewed on his lip before speaking. “Yes I did, Mako. I’ve been a complete shit lately, and I don’t even know why. You work so hard to support us and to care for me and I’ve just been…a…a total brat. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bo,” Mako began, but Bolin cut him off.

“No, it’s not! Look, there’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting lately.”

Mako was surprised at Bolin’s statement; he hadn’t sounded this remorseful before. “It’s okay; I forgive you. We were both in the wrong.”

“No! You weren’t—I was! Mako, I think I would feel a lot better about this if I could make up for how I acted. After that, it would all be over—there’d be a clean slate between us—you know what I mean?” 

Mako did not. “Um…okay, Bo. I guess if you feel that way then you can stay in this weekend instead of going out with your friends.”

Bolin closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s not what I had in mind.”

Mako paused. “…Okay. What were you thinking?”

“I think you should discipline me.” 

Whatever it was that Mako had expected Bolin to say, it wasn’t that. Several seconds passed in complete silence as Mako gaped at him, not knowing how to respond. Finally, he spoke, trying to make his tone sound gentle and sincere. 

“Bolin, no. That’s really not necessary and, besides, you’re too old for that now anyways. Why don’t we just say that you’re grounded for a week and leave it at that?” 

Mako was surprised to see tears well up in his brother’s eyes. “No! That’s not good enough. Please Mako? I feel really, really bad about how I’ve been acting. I think I need you to do this for me….” He trailed off, his voice trembling. 

Mako sighed. He really did not want to hurt Bolin. The memory of his own lashing at the Triple Threats headquarters was still fresh in his mind, even though almost two years had passed. But his brother had trusted him by telling him what it was that he wanted…what it was that he thought he needed. 

Mako spoke in a flat tone. “I guess…if you feel it’s absolutely necessary…then…I’ll do it.”

Bolin nodded solemnly. “I do. Thank you Mako.” He turned and walked into their bedroom and Mako heard a drawer opening. A moment later he returned carrying the thick leather belt that Mako had used on him a few times as a kid. 

Mako mentally sighed again. “You know what to do.” He tried to keep his voice steady and inflectionless. 

Bolin nodded and began to take off his sash, shirt, and pants, laying his clothes carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. He walked over to the side of the table and leaned onto it, supporting his weight with his hands. 

Mako picked up the belt and hesitated, stroking over it with his fingers and remembering the pain of his last experience with a similar implement. He sighed mentally and walked over to stand behind Bolin, taking aim at his upper back. 

_SLAP._ Mako put his weight behind the stroke, hitting Bolin hard. He knew his little brother would likely object if he thought he was going easy on him.

 _SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ Red marks appeared on Bolin’s back where Mako’s lashes had fallen. Bolin lowered his head and bit his lip, but made no other indication that he felt any discomfort. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ Mako mentally counted the strokes, carefully aiming so that they did not intersect. He tried to space them out across Bolin’s back, shoulders, butt, and thighs, so that he never hit the same place twice in a row. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ Mako continued to reign blows and Bolin took them stoically, keeping his head lowered and his eyes shut. After the fortieth lash Bolin’s breathing became slightly irregular, and his arms began to tremble. 

Mako noticed and decided to end the beating after the fiftieth stroke. “Okay, Bo. I think that’s enough. You did well; all has been forgiven.”

Bolin opened his eyes and looked behind his shoulder at Mako. His spoke with a surprisingly steady tone of voice. “No. Keep going. It’s not enough.”

Mako sighed again, this time out loud. He knew it was pointless to argue; Bolin could be surprisingly stubborn when he got an idea in his head. Instead he lifted his arm once more, aiming for Bolin’s red bottom. 

_SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._ Mako continued his mental count as more lines appeared on Bolin’s back and thighs. Mako had no choice now but to hit places that already had been marked, something he knew from personal experience to be quite painful. _SLAP. SLAP. SLAP._

On the ninety-second lash Bolin suddenly broke; he lowered his head completely to his chest and a choking sob burst from his mouth, although he did not move out of position. _Fuck,_ thought Mako. _It’s too much._ Letting the belt drop to the floor, he crossed the space between him and his brother and gently pushed him back from the table.

“…Wh..whhy…why did you stop?” Bolin choked out between sobs. 

Mako hushed him and pulled him against his chest, hugging around his neck tightly to avoid his tender backside. Bolin cried into his shirt for a few minutes, while Mako began to rub small circles into his upper arm with his fingertips. 

“It’s okay, Bo. You took that really, really well. I’m proud of you. We’ve reset now, okay? Forgive and forget and all that.” 

Mako felt Bolin nod into his chest. He cried for several more minutes before his breathing evened out and he raised his head. His emerald eyes were red and puffy, and there were tear marks on his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mako.” Bolin said softly. He wiped at his eyes and cheeks with the sides of his hands. “Can I…Can I have some dumplings now?”

Mako felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards as he reached for the bag.


	6. Reward

(Mako is 17, Bolin is 15).

It was two thirty in the morning when Bolin finally arrived home. Mako had been in his cot in their shared room, but he never could sleep when his brother wasn’t there. He heard the key turn and some muffled swearing before the front door opened. 

More swearing, a loud thump, and then some shuffling sounds mixed with giggles. Mako sighed and sat up. Bolin was drunk—again—and Mako was going to have to take care of him—again. Mako felt anger flare up inside his chest as he crossed the room, and he tried to quell it by taking a series of steading breathes. 

At first the main living space appeared to be empty. Mako bent a small flame and held it up, looking around. Finally he spotted Bolin; apparently having fallen down, he was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, leaning against their table. 

Mako gritted his teeth. “It’s almost three in the morning,” he ground out, crossing the room and bending down.

Bolin held his arms straight up, like a toddler asking for help taking off a sweater. He smiled sweetly at Mako. “I know…sorry…we…we were having so much fun…” He stumbled to his feet as Mako hoisted him beneath his well-muscled shoulders.

Staggering and leaning on his brother, Bolin tripped his way into their bedroom. Mako walked him over to his cot and shrugged away. Almost instantly the earthbender lost his balance and fell onto the mattress, erupting into giggles once more. He teetered up and undid his pants, but promptly fell back onto the bed as he had forgotten to take off his shoes.

Tempted sorely to slap the intoxicated earthbender, Mako turned away and took three more deep breaths. _In, out. In, out. In, out._ Calmer, he turned back to his brother and helped him sit up on the edge of the mattress. Mako peeled off his shoes and slipped off his pants before starting on his outer shirt. Now that Bolin was clad only in his shorts and tank top, Mako pushed him back and turned towards his own cot.

Mako’s breathing had evened out and he was just drifting off when his brother spoke. “Mako?” he asked uncertainly.

Mako stiffened. “What is it, Bolin?” he asked edgily. 

A long pause. “I…I love you.” 

Despite himself, Mako felt his anger ebbing away. “I know, Bo,” he said, much more gently. “Now go to sleep, okay?” 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Another long pause. “How do…I mean…do you? You know? Love me?” 

Mako’s eyes flew open. “What? Would I really take care of you every time you got shitfaced if I didn’t?”

“Oh.” Bolin seemed to ponder this for a minute. “Well, you never… Say it, anymore. You used to all the time.”

Even though his brother was drunk, Mako contemplated his slurred words. To him, the mutual love that the brothers felt for one another was a given. It didn’t need to be stated because it was constant, permanent, immutable. He’d never felt the need for perpetual reaffirmations of affection the way that Bolin apparently did. 

Pushing off his blanket, Mako stood up and crossed the small space in between the beds. He reached Bolin’s cot quickly. “Move over,” he said gruffly, pushing on his brother’s shoulder. Bolin obliged immediately, scooting across to the wall and turning to face the firebender. 

The lights from outside the window provided a soft glow. Bolin had shut his eyes again and Mako took the opportunity to study his brother’s still features. They were familiar, yet just now so tranquil: square jar, round nose, large eyes, curly wisp of hair right in the middle of his forehead. Without thinking, Mako reached up and brushed the tendril back.

Bolin’s eyes snapped open and he looked up. He broke into a smile and it was so sweet, so sincere that Mako could feel what remained of his anger and exasperation float away. 

A few minutes passed and Bolin shivered in the dark. “Mako…will you…will you warm me?” he asked, tentative again. 

Mako sighed. He knew that cuddling with his brother would send the wrong message—it was basically a reward for bad behavior. But he couldn’t stand denying him anything, either, especially when his basic needs weren’t met. He lay back and patted his shoulder in response and Bolin slithered over to his side. Curling up against his chest, the earthbender laid his head down and Mako wrapped his arms around him automatically. It was a comfortable position, habitual when they were children. Mako allowed his temperature to rise slightly, warming them both.

A few minutes passed and Bolin’s breathing evened out. Mako spoke softly, in case he had fallen asleep. “I do, though, you know. Love you.” 

Bolin raised his head and looked at him, grinning. He lay back down and, eventually, they both fell asleep.


End file.
